


Don't call me that

by Trashness



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Canon Universe, Enke being done with everything is my new aesthetic, Fans continue to speculate what Cain's deal is, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, eh?, kind of a christmas fic, maybe? - Freeform, there's ice skating and shit because i am weak, what the fuck am I doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 22:14:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5432699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trashness/pseuds/Trashness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cain and Abel are thrilled to finally be going on their much anticipated shore leave. Abel's looking forward to the feeling of solid ground beneath his feet, while Cain is shaking at the thought of getting alcohol in his system again. There's just a couple of problems. <br/>1. They're being chaperoned by Enke and Keeler.<br/>2. Out of the thousand of cities on Earth that have Alliance bases... They land in Abel's hometown. </p>
<p>But the atmosphere is cozy and the company is pleasant. Somehow, they make do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't call me that

**Author's Note:**

> Man I don't even know. I've just been on the biggest Starfighter kick lately. And when I say lately, I mean a good couple of months now. I just had to get it out of my system. 
> 
> Also I always imagine Abel as some British kid. Maybe it's because I love the idea of him going through this rebellious teenage phase, where he wears ripped Sex Pistols shirts underneath his school uniform and sneaks out to underground gigs late at night. He hides antique records underneath his bed and his fingers itch to ditch his slender violin bow and pick up a pair of drum sticks.
> 
> I dunno. This is the kind of shit I think about.

All of the fighters and navigators assemble in the loading bay, jostling each other back and forth. They shove each other, trying to get close to shuttles that will be leaving the battleship soon.

 

Shore leave.

 

Those two little words could immediately boost morale and send ripples of excitement through the mess halls. Many navigators wrote home and would inform their friends and family for a quick meet up, whilst the fighters enthusiastically gambled in the depths of the ship, hoping to raise their credits and salivating over what treats they would be able to buy once they hit the planet’s surface. The loading bay is filled with chattering voices.

“C’mon, let’s go!” One impatient fighter shouts out.

“We’re all here, get on with it!” An irritated navigator whines. Enke levels the crowd with a harsh stare from where he stands above them on his stage. Keeler, as luminous as ever, stands just behind him.

 

Two nights and one day. That’s all they got. Just two nights and a day to feel the pull of real gravity on your limbs, to breathe air that hadn’t been recycled through the same 300 bodies over and over and over again. Just two nights and a day to feel the wind on your face and see the world in colour again. The vacuum of space had a way of sucking all the colour out of the place, and the sterile grey and steel hallways of Alliance ships didn’t exactly help. Yeah, Abel could understand everybody’s restlessness, and while he was looking forward to it… it wasn’t a huge priority. A day off was a day off, regardless of whether it was spent on the ship or on some planet. He knew an extra dose of anticipation washed through his comrades though because this time they were going to Earth. Not some piddly space station, not some freezing mining colony left on the edge of the solar system, ACTUAL Earth. With a thriving economy, blazing deserts and mild rainforests. Anyone actually from Earth sighed in relief that they wouldn’t have to endure a potentially worse environment than the ship, whilst anyone from the colonies punched their hands in the air. They had seen postcards, documentaries, but few had actually experienced it for themselves. But for Abel… It’s no big deal. He doesn’t exactly have many fond memories of his home planet. Sure it was beautiful, but it was home to the upper class, and he had experienced enough of their bullshit for a lifetime.

 

He stands in the large crowd, waiting for Enke to speak, miraculously not getting shoved back and forth. One of the advantages of being partnered with Cain… nobody ever touched you. He can feel Cain next to him now, emanating his threatening aura, daring anyone to fucking push him. _Just try it_ His dark eyes warn.

“You excited?” Abel asks him, just to fill the silence until they are allowed to board their shuttle. Cain had been mysteriously quiet about shore leave. He’d barely mentioned it and Abel hadn’t seen him sitting and playing poker with the other fighters.

“Just looking forward to getting off this damn ship.” He mumbles. His brows crease with agitation.

“You been to Earth before?”

“You’re doing it again~” Cain growls with a light sing song quality. Abel rolls his eyes.

“Sorry.” Personal information is off limits, and Abel has become increasingly more curious about his fighter’s past life. He doesn’t ask anything major. Nothing like “Where are your parents?” or god forbid, “What’s your real name?”. Abel knows better than to touch those topics, but he’s tried to ask Cain where he grew up, or how long he has been in the Alliance. Relatively harmless things in Abel’s opinion. Cain just smiles his sharp grin at him though, and shakes his head.

“None of your damn business, sweetheart.”. Abel groans and the cycle inevitably repeats itself.

 

“Ladies!” Enke calls out.

“Finally,” Cain hisses. Abel hides his smirk.

“You will soon be leaving on your assigned shuttles to your various destinations on Earth. No! Before you ask, you will not all be going to the same location” Enke continues. “And that is because, there is no city on Earth that would be able to take all of you assholes.” A small smile plays on his lips.

“Now listen up! Your fighter and navigator teams will be partnered with another team during your shore leave. You are all responsible for each other. If one of you gets into trouble, all four of you will be banned from the next shore leave.” His sharp eyes manage to find Cain in the crowd. Cain wrinkles his nose and shrugs.

“The fuck…?” He whispers. Abel laughs under his breath, before Cain flicks him in the shoulder.

“All of you need to be back at your shuttle’s docking station by 0900 hours Slepinir time in two days. Now listen for your teams.” Enke steps aside and lets Keeler take center stage. He smiles and begins to read the team names from the tablet he holds in front of him. Cain crosses his fingers, hoping to get partnered with Deimos’ team, which Abel prays that doesn’t happen because that would mean dealing with Phobos for an excruciating two days. Two days of needless bitching and snide remarks. No thank you. Instead, Abel hopes to get assigned to Ethos’ team, which makes Cain swear under his breath when he realizes that that is Praxis’ navigator.

 

Keeler continues to read off the names, and when Deimos and Praxis’ teams are assigned to each other, Cain and Abel quickly glance around the room to see who else is left. The teams dwindle down until only three remain. The other two teams are paired up, leaving Cain and Abel abandoned in the center of the loading bay.

“If they don’t let us go…!”

“Shhh, Cain.” Abel touches his arm soothingly. Cain’s eyes dart around the large room like a caged animal.

“I’m sure it’s just…” Abel tries to reason.

“Reliant!” Enke’s voice booms in the now empty bridge. His hard features soften and he places his hands on his hips. “You’re with us.” Cain scrunches his face up and groans.

“Fucking dammit!”

Keeler, ignoring Cain’s outburst, excitedly claps and jumps around on the spot. Abel smiles and waves at him politely.

“It could be worse” Abel mumbles. Cain continues to sulk. “Just keep telling yourself ‘At least he’s not Praxis’” And Cain actually has to bark a laugh at that. Abel had a point. Enke would be a pain in the ass, but at least he wouldn’t harass his navigator.

 

“We’re not leaving for another 30 minutes” Enke approaches the two of them. “We’ve still gotta grab our packs, so you guys have time to get changed out of your uniforms if you want.”

Cain’s eyes narrow on his lead fighter.

“Were you assigned to us just to keep an eye on me?”

Enke smirks. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I requested it actually!” Keeler springs into step next to his partner. “I thought spending shore leave with Abel would be fun.” He shrugs. His cheerfulness and likability is just on the edge of rubbing Cain the wrong way. He still hasn’t made his mind up on whether he finds Keeler amusing, or wants to kick him in the face.

“And it makes sense! The best navigator and lead navigator together, and the best fighter…” Keeler beams at Cain. “With the lead fighter. Seems logical that we would be put on a team together.”

“Best fighter, huh?” Cain arrogantly slips his hands into his pockets. Enke sends him a glare, which he ignores. Of course he _was_ the best fighter, he and Abel had made damn sure of that, but it was still nice to hear it from a higher-up’s mouth. Ok, _maaaaybe_ he could tolerate this Keeler guy.

“We’ll see you in 30.” Abel grabs Cain’s wrist and drags him back to their bunk to get changed.

 

Sitting on their private shuttle dressed in casual clothes feels… weird to Abel somehow. Like the war has just been a field trip and they’re returning home now. Abel’s opted to wear a long sleeved, fitted shirt, with a puffy hooded jacket. Next to him, Cain just wears a red singlet and a light hoodie. Enke eyes his attire suspiciously.

“You know it’s winter down there, right?” He pulls on a flannel over-shirt and his leather jacket. Next to him, Keeler has managed to find the only knitted wool sweater on this side of the universe. Cain scoffs at his comment.

“Trust me, I’ll be fine.”

 

Their shuttle hurtles through space, until Abel notices that the usual blackness starts to be invaded with shades of navy. The shuttle quakes as they hit atmosphere, and shades of dark blue whip by their windows before revealing streaks of light blue and white. The shuttle jostles, desperately trying to slow down so that it can glide over the sparkling planet below. Abel’s stomach lurches from the rapid decline. Their asses are pushed into their seats as they struggle with the inertia of falling. Eventually, the shuttle slows down enough that they can make out clouds outside the windows and peer down at the expansive seas below them. They continue their descent until a city comes into view. High buildings reach up to touch them and shades of green peak out from the blanket of white that covers everything.

“Aw great. Snow.” Cain pouts. “Never seen _that_ before.”

“I said it was winter.” Enke shrugs.

“It’s _Earth!_ We couldn’t go to the _other_ hemisphere?” Cain leans forward with exasperation. “I was promised beaches, and deserts, and and… other cool shit.” He crosses his arms over his chest. Abel rolls his eyes at the spectacle, then leans his forehead against the window. Cities from above always looked so peaceful. No noise. Just little cars zooming around, filled with people going about their day. From so high, you couldn’t see any conflicts or issues. Everything was trivial from space. And despite himself, the site of his home planet fills Abel with a sense of warmth. The sense of belonging is hard to get rid of after 20 some years. He smiles fondly at the familiar shrubs and trees that lined his childhood, and the architecture of the buildings that was undoubtedly Earth’s. You wouldn’t find any crystal skyscrapers on the colonies. They fly above a large clock tower, an old cathedral, and a square with lion statues positioned at its entrance.

 

Wait…

 

“Where are we landing?!” Abel’s sudden outburst startles everyone. Keeler catches his breath and thumbs through his tablet on his lap.

“Uh…. England. London.”

“Uuuuuggghhhhhhh.” Abel collapses with his head in his hands. “I’m with Cain. We should definitely go to the southern hemisphere.”

“Damn straight.” Cain nods. Enke and Keeler exchange looks.

“Is there a problem?” Keeler cocks his head to the side with concern. Abel realizes he’s being silly. Selfish even. He shakes his head.

“No, no. It’s fine. I was just uh…” He forces a smile. “I just grew up here is all. Was hoping for something a bit different. More exciting.”

“I can’t change the course, Abel.” Enke offers.

“It’s fine. Really.” He laughs. It’s enough to convince the other team that he’s ok. They go back to talking between themselves, allowing Abel’s mouth to fall into a contemplative frown. Cain notices the new slump of his shoulders and how his fair hands fidget in his lap.

“What’s with you?” He mumbles. He wants to put his hand on Abel’s lean thigh and rub soothing circles into it, but with Enke sitting not two feet away, he doesn’t risk it.

“There’s 5000 Alliance ports on this planet.” He sighs. “Why did we have to come here?”

And for the first time, Cain actually wants to ask Abel about his past.

 

The shuttle lands with a nauseating clunk, and Abel is determined to not let the location of his shore leave affect his holiday. It could actually be an advantage. He already knew how to get around, the best spots to shop and eat, and he spoke the language. They roll out of their shuttle with their packs and begin to move across the tarmac to the nearby train station. The winter sun is low on the horizon, and a frigid wind whips across the runway.

“Jesus fucking…shit…!” Enke lets out a slew of curses and wraps his jacket tighter around him. He immediately regrets not bringing a beanie. Even Abel, who grew up in this environment, is surprised by the biting cold on his nose and ears. He’s become too used to the perfectly climate controlled space ships.

“C’mon ladies,” Cain takes Abel’s pack out of his arms and swings it onto his spare shoulder. He walks through the open area, ice and snow billowing through his open hoodie, like it’s nothing. He struts by Enke, completely unruffled by the striking change of temperature.

“You coming or what?” He smirks at Enke’s shivering frame and snotty nose.

“I hate that man.” Enke whimpers and buries himself deeper into his coat. Abel laughs at the scene, but feels a bit bad for him. Even Keeler seems to be coping better. He sidles up next to the fighter.

“Want me to take him down a peg?” Abel offers, low enough that only Enke can hear. Enke only raises his eyebrows in question. Abel laughs malevolently, then kneels to scoop up some of the slush at his feet. His pulse starts to race, becoming giddy at the thought of the atrocity he is about to commit. He pats the snow into a tight ball and stands.

“Hey Cain!”

“Yeah?”

 

_Biff_.

 

The snowball lands and disintegrates perfectly against Cain’s sharp, dark, features. The sting is familiar, as is the cool feeling of the ice melting and running down his neck, between his pectoral muscles and finally settling against his naval. The front of his singlet is soaked. A violent shiver runs across his body and his jaw clamps down hard against the onslaught of cold. Abel swallows at the blank expression he wears. Cain barely blinks before his dark eyes seem to widen manically.

 

“You’re dead.” And Cain’s mouth breaks into a menacing sneer. He drops his and Abel’s packs onto the ground before he springs forward. His feet are confident on the carpet of ice and snow.

“Oh shitshitshit!” Abel rapidly backs up, trying not to lose his footing.

“You fucked up!” Cain bellows from behind him. He scoops up the snow and expertly tosses it at Abel’s back. His eyes sparkle as each one hits with a pleasant crunch. Abel starts to laugh and tries to reach down and throw another snowball, but Cain’s barrage is lethal and never ending. Abel scurries away, sending frantic snowballs behind him. Cain easily dodges each one.

“Stop! Stop! I give up!” Abel laughs and shrieks. One of his feet slips and he falls onto a knee. The palm of his hand stings as it collides with the ground. He scrambles to push himself up and away from Cain.

“Ohhhhh no, Princess.” Cain tosses another snowball which grazes through Abel’s hair. “This is what happens when you pick a snowball fight with a colony brat.”

Abel throws a few more, before he starts to circle around Keeler and Enke for protection. Enke looks unamused, but Keeler’s youthful face has erupted into an excited smile.

“I’ll protect you, Abel!” Keeler manages to aim a snowball right at Cain’s neck. He stops in his tracks, surprised at the lead navigator’s actions. His hesitation is enough to let Abel catch his breath and return several shots with renewed vigour.

“Oh fuck,” Cain raises his hands, trying to block the snowballs headed his way. The blondes laugh and cling to each other for support on the slippery ice, now feeling like they have a chance against Cain.  

“Augh!” Keeler shrieks when a snowball hits him in the face. The ice breaks and gets caught in his fine, white hair. He laughs and violently returns fire. Cain starts to stumble backwards.

“Shitfuckshit.” He winces. “I’m gonna be killed by hot blondes!” He laughs and starts to punch at the snowballs coming at him. “It’s actually not a bad way to go!”

Enke looks on with a cold stare, burrowing deeper into his leather jacket. Keeler laughs and elbows his side.

“C’mon, Enke” He giggles.

“No. No.” Enke deadpans. “I do not… no.”

A stray snowball crashes into his side and he shudders. Cain continues dodging snowballs, before he gives up and runs forward. His gaze is locked onto his navigator. Abel’s breath hitches and he pushes off of Keeler for more traction on the ice.

“No, no!” He barely makes it three steps before Cain’s strong arms are around him, lifting him off of the ground.

“Augh! Cain! No!” He kicks his legs as he’s twirled around easily. He can feel Cain darkly chuckle against his stomach. His grip changes on Abel’s hips and he gasps, feeling what’s coming.

“No CAIN WAIT!” But it’s futile. He shrieks and Cain tosses him effortlessly into a snow bank. His body sinks into it, the ice melting against his butt and back. Cain leans over him with a victorious grin. Laughing against the white snow, the ice sparkling and reflecting onto Abel’s fair features, he looks fresh and beautiful. God, Cain wants to kiss him. But he schools his features into their usual sneer.

“Did you learn your fucking lesson?”

Abel giggles, barely looking remorseful. “Yeah, yeah.” He holds his hand out.

“Please help me up. I’m so cold.”

Cain rolls his eyes, but helps his partner out of the snow bank. He loops his arm around his shoulders.

“ _You’re_ cold.” He scoffs. Abel squirms against his side.

“Ugh, you’re all wet!”

But Cain just laughs and pulls him closer.

 

They finally manage to make it onto the train that will take them to where they’re staying without another incident. The last rays of sunlight flood through the large windows of the carriage, reflecting off of the various monitors running advertisements and news stories. Abel tunes it out, used to the urban terrain, but Enke and Keeler seem pretty enthralled. Glittering lights sparkle out of the high towers and perfumed gardens emerge on the balconies of London’s elite. Cain dozes sleepily next to Abel, still soaked from their previous encounter in the snow.

 

The train slows and Enke begins to grab his pack.

“This is our stop.”

Abel cranes his head up at the high-rise they have just entered. Abel knows that they are in the heart of the city, and the silver lettering across the hotel is familiar.

“Wait, what?” He asks. Cain’s awake now, grabbing his pack and looking out the window for where they could possibly be staying. But all he can see are  the crystal chandeliers that line the entry way to some fancy building, and men in starched suits waiting to take guest’s bags. _This isn’t right._ He thinks. Enke and Keeler push him and his partner out of the train and onto the warm platform. Cain and Abel exchange worried looks. This couldn’t be right. Surely. When you got shore leave you stayed in some barracks or some rat ridden motel. Just someplace to crash for the night where you could sleep and not get stabbed. The places were lucky to smell like chlorine and detergent, let alone the spice and floral scents wafting towards Cain and Abel as they stand in front of this hotel’s lobby. A man in a suit seems to recognize Enke and runs up to him. He exchanges a few words with him, as well as some paperwork, before he places four keys in Enke’s calloused hand. Abel and Cain watch the interaction in stunned silence. When the man leaves, Enke turns to them with a cocky grin.

“Oh… did Keeler and I not mention the huge benefits we get?” He waltzes confidently into the hotel lobby. Keeler giggles and pokes Cain’s side.  
“And to think… you didn’t want to be teamed up with us.” He mumbles. Abel shrugs and follows them into the hotel, with a suspicious Cain trailing behind.

 

They pile into the elevator and up to their floor. Enke directs them to the area they’ll be staying and hands Cain and Abel their keys. They nod and go to open their rooms, each of them moving to a different door in the hallway. Cain freezes.

“Whoa, whoa, Abel what’s your key say?” Abel flashes his key. It has the numbers ‘42’ attached to it. Cain looks down at his own key, with the numbers ‘40’ staring up at him.

“We have different rooms?” He turns on Enke. Abel seems confused. He hasn’t slept in a different bed, let alone a different room than Cain for some time. Cain’s eyebrows are knitted together. He’s trying not to let his distaste for the situation show. Enke crosses his arms and gives a knowing smirk.

“Yes. We each have our own rooms. Most people would prefer that.” His dark eyes dart between Cain and Abel. “This isn’t a problem is it?”

Cain growls a bit and sighs.

“No.” He enters his room without another word.

 

His bad mood is quickly dispatched though when he sees his room. It’s larger than any of the rooms he’s ever been assigned during his time with the Alliance, and definitely bigger than anything he grew up in. A huge window looks out onto the city below, which has dissolved into a sea of stars in the night. There’s a king size bed, just for him, made up with plush pillows and Egyptian cotton sheets. A sizeable closet stands in the corner, littered with hangars and racks for the suits it assumes its guest has. There’s a small kitchenette across from it, fitted with a chrome coffee maker, sink, and a refrigeration unit. Cain’s eyes widen and he throws it open. The cool air fogs his vision briefly, but then it dissipates, revealing rows of small bottles of alcohol. Rum, schnapps, vodka, beer, shit in French that Cain can’t even begin to pronounce.

“Ho-ly fuuuuccckkk” He whispers. He jumps to his feet and yanks the door open to his apartment, skidding out into the hallway.

“Enke!” He shouts. Enke pokes his head out of his room next door.

“Yeah?”

“So the Alliance… they’re paying for everything?” As much as Cain wants to dive right into the minibar, he knows he doesn’t have the credits for it. His mouth is already watering.

“Yes.” Enke answers, looking annoyed.

“EVERYTHING?” Cain confirms. Enke rolls his eyes.

“Yes, everything. Comm bills. Room service. Whatever.”

“Oh fuck, jesus, fuck yes.” Cain’s voice shakes and he closes his eyes as if in prayer.

 

He waits until it’s late. After he’s showered and after the sound of maids

collecting room service plates has disappeared. Sirens hum somewhere outside, and the usual rustle and footsteps of the other guests has vanished. Cain, wearing only a pair of boxers, grabs as many of the bottles from the minibar as he can and slips into the hallway. He grins deviously to himself and starts to approach Abel’s room. That is until someone comes out of the door in between their rooms. Enke, wearing a t-shirt and pair of boxers, quickly hides a bottle of champagne behind his back. Cain snorts.

“Watcha got there?”

Enke’s eyes narrow on all the liquor in Cain’s arms.

“Where are you off to?”

“I’m gonna go have some fun with my navigator. Is that a crime?”

“No, but fucking them is.”

Cain has to throw his head back and laugh at that. Ah yes, the old “no sexual/romantic relations between teams” rule. It was the least obeyed rule in the whole military. It merely served as a cautious warning. Don’t get too attached because your partner was always disposable. That’s what had been drilled into them during their years of training. But after living in such cramped quarters, the adrenaline rush of surviving, and the gratitude for saving each other’s lives constantly, it was inevitable that many of the teams would end up banging. And everybody knew about it. Gossip travels faster than bullets on battleships.

“You’re one to talk.” Cain darkly laughs. “I’ve seen your bruises.”

“Everyone gets hit a couple of times during training.”

“On the neck?” Cain smirks. Enke sighs, knowing he’s been beat.

“Look, Reliant.” He gets into Cain’s face, using the slight height difference to his advantage. His voice is a low growl. “If you tell _anyone_ what you saw here tonight, I’ll tell them what _I_ saw. Your navigator will be reassigned before you can step off the transport shuttle. Do I make myself clear?”

Cain wants to laugh. There was no way _in hell_ Bering would let Abel get reassigned. But he keeps it amicable. He doesn’t really care about sabotaging Enke, and everyone had already figured that he and Keeler were an item. Cain isn’t petty enough to stir up trouble, just for the sake of it.

“What happens on shore leave, stays on shore leave.” He shrugs and smiles lazily. Enke nods and steps back. Cain’s eyes spy the bottle of champagne again and he has to chuckle. His lead fighter, the one who had tossed him around so easily and could make a platoon of fighters fight back tears, was a soppy romantic.

“You’re just a bit smitten aren’t ya?” He smirks. Enke scoffs and moves past him, bumping him with his shoulder on purpose. Cain moves over to Abel’s door and jiggles the handle.

“It’s locked you…” But Enke freezes. In two seconds Cain has shoved what looks like a small laser pointer into the lock, jimmied the handle, and broken open the door. It swings open easily. Enke looks at him astounded.

“How did…” He whispers. Then a more sinister thought crosses his mind. “Can you do that on the Slepinir??”

But Cain just grins and slips into the dark room.

“Goodnight, Enke.”

 

Cain fumbles his way through Abel’s room, careful not to drop any of the bottles in his arms. He manages to place them on the bedside table without any of them rolling off. Abel lies in the bed, softly dozing to one side of it, like he’s forgotten that Cain isn’t there to take up the other. Cain smiles down on him, appreciating the moment without the stress of training, mission objectives or Bering breathing down his neck. He leans across the bed and lightly slaps the lump where Abel’s ass should be. He startles awake and flails out his limbs. Blankets and sheets tangle around his knees and ankles. Cain jumps back so that he isn’t struck.

“Who…?! What….?!” It takes Abel a moment to collect himself and discover his assailant’s identity.

“Cain?” He breathes.

“Yeah! Who the fuck did you think I was?”

“I didn’t let you in… I didn’t know who….” Abel closes his eyes, allowing himself to fully wake up. “Don’t _do_ that!”

And that sounds like the Abel Cain knows. More bite and challenge than someone in his small body has any right to have.

“How’d you get in here?”

“I broke in.”

“Aw, Jesus.” He groans. Cain laughs and crawls onto the bed. “Whyyyy?” Abel whines.

“We sleep together. Remember?”

“Oh god, this again.” Abel grumbles into his pillow. He lifts up the blankets inviting Cain to slide in next to him. “Fine. Get in.”

“No, no, no. You need to be awake now, princess.” Cain grabs Abel by the shoulders and pulls him into a reluctant sitting position.

“Cain…” Abel whines, but Cain shushes him. He grabs one of the bottles he brought and places it in Abel’s hand. He grabs another for himself.

“We are on shore leave, and we are both sober. This is not how this shit works. Now drink dammit.” Cain knocks back the whole bottle in one go. He’s surprised at how smoothly it travels down, almost like he’s drinking coffee. It has nothing on the way the alcohol of his youth would burn and feel like it was stripping the mucosal layers from his esophagus.

“I don’t drink.” Abel goes to put the bottle back on his bedside table, but Cain stops it. He leans forward, purring gently, running his lips along Abel’s jaw to his ear.

“Then allow me to corrupt you some more.” He smirks against Abel’s skin. Abel shudders underneath him. Cain pulls away and raises his eyebrows expectantly at him. Abel returns the look with a challenging glare.

“If you take advantage of me…” He starts.

“Babe,” Cain raises his hands in surrender. “I just wanna get drunk before I’m forced to spend the next six months sober. I can have your ass anytime I want.”

Abel wrinkles his face at that statement.

“No you can’t.”

Cain hums a laugh and leans forward. Abel closes his eyes eagerly waiting for Cain to kiss him, but instead Cain gently clasps his chin and runs his thumb over his lips. His nail briefly catches on Abel’s scar.

“Pretty sure I can.” His voice is low and melts over Abel’s face like honey. Abel shudders, knowing he’s always been weak against Cain’s advances since he first saw him. His aggression and straight-forwardness continues to be refreshing after years of conservative Earth attitudes. He opens his eyes to see that Cain is looking at him with a seductive sneer. Abel tears his gaze away. Not wanting to admit defeat, he opens the bottle in his hand and throws back its contents. He splutters and winces after he swallows.

“Alright, you did it.” Cain claps him on the shoulder. “The night’s just getting started.” He places another bottle in Abel’s hand. The label has delicate cursive script, and the name has too many vowels for Cain to know what to do with. It looks like just the kind of thing Abel was bred to drink. Cain grabs a clear bottle for himself. He opens it and it smells vaguely medicinal, or like paint thinner. This was more like it. He holds up his bottle to clink against Abel’s.

“Peyh do dnah,” He says. Abel looks at him curiously, before Cain takes a swig from his bottle.

“It’s gonna be a rough night.” Abel sighs and takes a swig from his own bottle. This one doesn’t burn like the last and he actually enjoys the tart aftertaste.

“It’s gonna be a _great_ night.” Cain corrects. He clinks their bottles together once more.

 

Abel’s down three bottles when he hits that loose, giggly stage of drunk. He’s uninhibited and all smiles, teasingly rubbing Cain’s forearm. He feels all warm and lightheaded and doesn’t mind the bitter taste of the alcohol as much anymore. Cain’s six bottles down and only starting to feel lightly buzzed. This Earth stuff was pretty weak.

“What are you smiling at?” He asks Abel. His navigator is staring at him with bright, glassy eyes, and bites his bottom lip to suppress his guilty smile.

“Nothing.” He blushes and giggles. “Nope. Nothing.”

“C’mooooon,” Cain rolls his eyes. He tries to grab Abel’s arms, but he laughs and squirms underneath his grip.

“Stooop,” Abel whines. “It tickles, schtop.” He starts to slur. Cain blinks at him in disbelief.

“Fuck, you’re such a light weight.” He laughs.

“I toooold you.” Abel collapses into his pillow. “Ugh whyyyyy, why did I let you talk me into this.” He peaks up at Cain with a weak scowl.

“You and your… your stupid smile and your cool hair.”

Cain laughs loudly, freely and unrestrained by trying to keep his image in check. He pats Abel on the ass.

“You think my hair’s cool?”

“No. It’s stupid. You’re stupid.” Abel mumbles into his pillow. Cain lets him pout as he opens another bottle for himself. He’s gone through all the vodkas and gins already, and has now moved on to whiskey. He takes a swig from the new bottle, enjoying the way it warms his stomach when it hits. Sighing, he lays back next to Abel. He starts to run his hand through his navigator’s fine hair, mesmerized by the way the light strands look against his dark skin. Abel mumbles something against the pillow, before he starts to crawl onto Cain’s chest. Cain grunts, but doesn’t push him off. They lay entwined together for sometime, Cain enjoying the light buzz of alcohol and soothing sound of Abel breathing against him.

“Soooo,” Abel picks up his head. He places his chin on Cain’s chest, looking up at him with wet eyes and a slight smirk. “You’re from the colonies?”

Cain starts at this. He goes rigid underneath Abel’s form.

“Whe…?”

“You called yourself a colony brat earlier.”

Cain swears under his breath and eases back into the mattress. He had slipped up.

“If you ever call me that…”

“Never.” Abel rubs his face against Cain’s chest. He resembles an affectionate cat. Cain believes him.

“I figured it would’ve been obvious.” He huffs. “All the fighters can tell.”

“I can’t.” Abel sighs. “I don’t know how you’d be able to tell.” Cain chuckles at Abel’s ignorance.

“Well _I_ can tell.” He growls. “For instance, you absolutely reek of Earth.”

Abel looks up at his fighter in confusion.

“Wha… nooooo” He groans. “You don’t know.” He pouts.

“Look at you.” Cain pushes him up by the shoulders. Abel flops uselessly, too drunk to really control his limbs unless he has to. Cain moves him from side to side, just to show that he can.

“This drunk from three bottles?” Cain lets Abel flop back onto his chest. “If we were in the colonies, you would be dead.”

Abel isn’t sure why, but he giggles at that. He crawls up Cain’s chest further and sloppily kisses him on the mouth. Cain reciprocates, wrapping an arm tightly around Abel’s waist and his free hand runs through Abel’s soft hair. Small appreciative noises emerge from the back of Abel’s throat. He eagerly pushes his tongue into Cain’s mouth, tasting the bitter and stale taste of alcohol. He’s too far gone to care though. He briefly pulls away to catch his breath, letting Cain look at his flushed and breathless face. His pale skin glows in the streaks of moonlight that flood in from the window, and his dark eyes gleam with affection. Cain surges upwards, drawing the breath out of him and kissing him senseless.

_You’re far too beautiful for the colonies_ Cain wants to say, but can’t. Instead he conveys it in the way his hands possessively grip at Abel’s hips, and how his teeth leave marks along Abel’s fragile collarbones.

 

 The next morning, bleary eyed and heavy headed, Abel is yanked into the city by Keeler’s will. The fighters are also there, but neither looks as terrible as Abel feels. Cain looks like his usual cocky self, barely wincing at the bright sunlight on the snow. Abel decides then and there that he hates hangovers, and Cain must be some kind of demon to not feel anything.

 

Keeler cheerfully pulls them along the icy sidewalks, marveling at the bright displays in the shop windows and the twinkling lights hung all around the place. Each shop they enter is heavily perfumed with the smell of nutmeg and hazelnut. Cain’s eyes narrow at the increasing amount of lights and decorative wreaths they pass.

“Ok, Abel. What’s with all the lights and your guys obsession with decorating trees?” Cain quietly mumbles behind Abel. They’re in a chocolatier teeming with customers cheerfully filling their baskets with goods. Tables and shelves are lined with treats, packed in shiny gold boxes tied off with green and red ribbon. Keeler is at the samples counter enthusiastically trying everything that is handed to him.

“Hmmmm,” Abel looks up from a box of peppermints he had been examining. “It’s Christmas” He answers. Cain’s expression remains blank.

“You say that like I’m supposed to fucking know what that is.”

Abel tries to not let the shock he feels show on his face.

“It’s uh…” God how did you describe Christmas? Do you start with the pop-culture and materialistic definition? Or go all the way back to some kid being born in a barn?

“It’s like a winter festival.” Abel smiles. “You’re supposed to spend it with the people you care about, eating a lot of good food, exchanging gifts… stuff like that.” He offers with a friendly shrug.

“But why the tree thing?”

“Just accept it, Cain.”

“Abel!” Keeler’s high voice rings across the shop. He waves Cain and Abel over to him.

“You _have_ to try this.” He places two small blocks of chocolate in their hands. Abel can make out the ribbon of white chocolate that runs through it, as well as the chunks of marshmallows and cherries sticking out.

“It’s amazing.” Keeler beams. ”I’m buying five boxes. Even Enke likes it.” Keeler throws his thumb over his should to where Enke has his arms filled with said boxes.

“It’s pretty good.” He manages to say around a mouth of chocolate.

Abel shrugs and tosses the piece into his mouth. It’s definitely some higher class chocolate. He can tell by the way it melts in his mouth and how there’s no bitterness afterwards. It’s very sweet. Cain is still sniffing his piece cautiously.

“You ever had chocolate before?” Abel asks quietly. On Earth that would be unheard of, and he doesn’t want to embarrass Cain.

“Not that I can remember.” He grumbles. “Is it good?”

“Mmmm” Abel thinks. “Try it, but I think I know how you’re going to feel about it.”

Cain raises his eyebrows questioningly. With a resigned sigh he pops the piece into his mouth. Abel watches his face scrunch up with a giggle. The assault on Cain’s senses is immediate. The candied cherries burst syrupy and sickeningly sweet against his tongue. The chocolate does little to cut through sweetness, instead just making the whole thing taste heavier and richer. He swallows and his eyes water a bit.

“Gah, shit.” He hisses. He sticks his tongue out of his mouth and Abel laughs. “Too sweet. No. Fuck that.” He shudders. “I need a drink.”

“I figured.” Abel chuckles. He reaches behind him to grab another piece of chocolate. This one is a much darker brown and glossy on the surface. There’s flakes of something in it, but Cain can’t identify what they are.

“Try this one. I think you’ll like it a lot better.” Abel offers. Cain shoves it into his mouth greedily. _Anything_ to get the taste of that other one out of his mouth. This chocolate is definitely not as sweet, but the texture is still pleasing as it glides along his palette. There’s an undercut of bitterness and heat starts to flood Cain’s mouth. _Oh shit_. He raises his hand to cover his mouth, hiding his surprised smile.

“Good, right?” Abel smirks. Cain lets out a small exhale.

“It’s pretty fucking good,” He nods and Abel can tell that he’s smiling by the way his eyes crinkle. Abel turns around and picks up a bag of them, neatly tied with some gold ribbon.

“I’ll buy you some.” He says. Cain’s smile disappears.

“No, Abel. I don’t need…” He snarls.

“C’mon, it’s Christmas.” Abel huffs. “I told you. It’s what we do.” Abel flags down a cashier to take his money. He plops the gift in Cain’s hands and pushes it towards his chest. Cain sighs, carefully tucking it into the inside pocket of his coat. He pats it gently to make sure that it won’t be crushed on his body. His rough fingers gently loop the ribbon around itself so that it doesn’t tangle. Cain isn’t really sure what to say, not exactly used to receiving gifts from anyone without some request or ulterior motive attached to the end of it.

“I’m not buying you anything.” Cain is quick to state. Abel scoffs.

“I didn’t expect you to.” Abel starts to exit the shop, along with Keeler and his several shopping bags. Enke stands next to Cain and crosses his arms.

“You’re really terrible at this”

“Shut up.” Cain hisses.

 

Seeing Cain in the context of Earth is strange for Abel. Cain always seemed to just _fit_ the Alliance environment. Sure, he was a bit flashier, louder and (if Abel had to admit) more attractive than the other fighters, but he never looked out of place. Sitting in the cockpit of the Reliant, Cain looked like he was made for space and the fighter’s uniform. His broad shoulders filled out his flight suit nicely, and his longs legs strut arrogantly in their standard issue boots. But down on Earth… walking amongst the people on the sidewalk, Cain sticks out far too easily. He’s too tall. Too broad. His sexy smirk and glinting eyes are too sharp compared to the other soft and rounded citizens. He carries himself completely differently, and the people in front of him part like a stream around a boulder. Is this what Cain had meant when he said he could tell who was from the colonies and who was from Earth. Abel suddenly becomes self conscious. Is this how _he_ looked on the Slepinir? Was he too soft and too bright for space? Cain doesn’t give him much time to ponder though. He grabs Abel by the forearm and tows him close to his body.

“Don’t fall behind, princess. We’re following your lead.” Cain growls. Abel notices how passersby all stare at his partner and then down to him in disbelief. Abel laughs in the back of his throat. He pushes himself into Cain’s side, chasing the warmth there. Maybe standing out wasn’t such a bad thing.

 

“Oh my gosh,” An excited exclamation comes from behind them.

“This can’t be good.” Enke groans. Keeler has darted off to fight through a crowd of people that seem to be gathered around a large square. Enke jogs after his navigator begrudgingly.

“What’s over there?” Cain nods towards it. It takes Abel a second to remember. Then he laughs.

“C’mon! I’ll show you!”

They run across the street, dodging the glossy cars that rush past them. Keeler is leaning on a short wall pleading with Enke about something. Cain and Abel approach them. That’s when Cain notices the people on the other side of the wall, gliding past elegantly on the ice.  

“Ice skating?” He quirks an eyebrow. Abel nods.

“Yeah,”

“C’mooooon, Enke.” Keeler shakes his partner. “Please skate with me. It’ll be fuuuuun” He pleads. Enke’s voice is stony.

“No. Absolutely not.”

Abel nudges Cain in the ribs.

“You want to?”

Cain shrugs. “I don’t have any skates.”

“You hire them,” Abel points at a shed on the other side of the rink. “Just tell them your size, give them 10 credits and you’ll be on your way.”

Cain’s desperately trying to look non-chalant. His knees are already shaking in anticipation. Because he could skate, oh man… could he skate. And looking at the slow, casual way these Earth citizens moved around on the ice, he doubted anyone here would be able to keep up with him. Sure it was all just supposed to be fun, but Cain rarely let an opportunity to show off pass him by. _Especially_ with Abel around.

“I guess we could give it a go.”

 

Cain expertly laces up his skates in no time at all, then helps Abel with his.

“Gah, shit, Cain!”

“They have to be tight” Cain rationalizes as he ties Abel’s laces off. He then helps his navigator to his feet and lets him lean on him while they make their way over to the rink. Keeler’s hands can barely stop shaking as he laces his up, and somehow, _miraculously_ , he’s managed to convince Enke to try with him.

Abel steps onto the ice, slightly shaky and unsure.

“It’s been a while.” He laughs. “Don’t you dare make fun of me.”

Cain snorts.

“No, never.” And he smirks as he smoothly glides onto the ice. The muscle memory floods back into his legs, and they quickly work to keep him upright and push him along the ice. He skates around Abel tauntingly, while Abel tries to find his skating legs again. He holds his arms out to the side in an attempt to balance better. A few more pumps of his legs and he starts to get into the swing of things again.

“Aw there you go.” Cain teases, now skating backwards in front of him. “You’re not so useless at this.”

“I’m rusty.” Abel scowls. Cain exhales through his nose and skates forward. He holds himself upright and skates around the rink like he was born on it. His powerful thighs push him faster, and his cheeks start to flush from the exertion. His dark hair whips around his face, framing the wild grin on his face as he whirls towards Abel.

“You gonna keep up?” He taunts. Abel rises to the challenge briefly, pushing his ankles outwards and pumping his arms, but there’s no way he can keep up. He admits defeat and slows to a glide, appreciating the way Cain moves from a distance. Cain is all angles and sharp teeth, the last kind of person you would ever call graceful. But he is enthralling to watch on the ice. From behind him, Abel can hear Keeler’s sparkling laughter. He’s moving about on the ice well enough, although a bit clunkily. Enke is next to him, clinging to the wall for dear life.

“This is bullshit. Why the fuck am I doing this…?” He growls under his breath. Keeler just laughs, apparently used to it.

“Thank you for doing this with me.” Keeler takes Enke’s hand and leans in to kiss him on the cheek. Enke stiffens with surprise and ends up losing his balance. His legs kick out wildly, before his butt smacks into the ice.

“Dammit!” He exclaims. “I grew up in the desert. I don’t need this shit!” He holds out a hand and Keeler shakily pulls him to his feet again. There’s a large, cold, wet patch on his butt now. Of course, this is the moment that Cain chooses to skate by.

“You’re really terrible at this” He mimics Enke’s phrasing from before. If looks could kill…

 

Cain grabs Abel’s hand on the next lap, catching him easily whenever Abel falters. Abel looks at their joined hands. With carols in the air and groups of laughing children passing them, it all feels so surreal. So domestic and unattainable. Cain’s just wrapped an arm around Abel’s waist when a siren sounds. People are clearing the ice, whilst others with bright red jackets are entering the rink.

“What was that?” Cain asks.

Enke and Keeler stop next to them.

“It’s a game.” Abel remembers. “You can leave if you don’t want to play, or stay on the ice if you do.”

“I’m out.” Enke immediately shuffles away. Keeler, looking slightly winded grabs at his chest.

“Sorry I uh…” He pants. “I’m gonna sit out too.” He takes Enke’s arm and pulls him towards an exit.

“What’s the objective?” Cain asks in the same tone he would when reading over Alliance missions.

“Skate from one end of the rink to the other. Those are the safe zones. When the whistle blows, you have to move to the other end. See the guys in red jackets?” Abel points at the people who have just entered the rink. They skate around in relaxed, languid movements. Cain nods.

“They’re gonna try to catch you. If they touch you, you’re out. Simple enough?”

Cain nods again. “What do I get when I win?”

“ _If_ you win.” Abel corrects. Cain smirks.

“ _When_ I win.”

Abel sighs.

“I dunno. A free drink? It’s just supposed to be fun you know.” He shrugs. “But you know… you get confirmation that you’re the best here.” He sings lightly. He knows he’s hooked Cain in.

A devious smile stretches across Cain’s lips.

“Ok,” He nods. “I’ll play.”

 

They line up with everyone else who has decided to stay in and play as well. It’s an eclectic mix of people, with clusters of 10 year olds, teenagers and middle aged couples. The whistle blows and all the players make their way into the middle like a great stampede. The people in the red jackets don’t really chase anyone yet. It’s too crowded for that. They merely stick their arms out and wait for people to run into them. Four whistle blows pass and the crowd has thinned considerably. Abel is still amongst the players, but he’s in danger of being caught soon, as he hangs to the back of the group.

“Need to go faster, princess”. Cain’s voice is in his ear, and his front presses against Abel’s back. He winds his arms around Abel’s middle and pushes both of them up to a higher speed. One of the red jackets rushes by to touch them, but Cain easily maneuvers out of the way.

“Jesus, Cain, wait…” Cain pushes Abel faster than he’s ever gone before. His ankles shake and the cold wind stings his eyes. Cain chuckles darkly against his cheek. He won’t let Abel fall. He’s done this hundreds of times before, and has had it done to him when he was first learning to skate. It feels nostalgic. Instead of the smell of smoke and mines in the air though, the Earth sky is clear and smells of pine needles. He glides himself and Abel to the safe zone before the whistle blows again. They spend the next few laps like this, each time Cain having to get fancier with his footwork as the crowd thins further and the red jackets see him as more of a threat. Abel’s laugh vibrates against his chest and he clings to Cain’s arms around his waist. Someone in a red jacket comes at them from the side, and Cain spins them around to skate backwards and across the safe zone line. Abel squeals and laughs. It’s all too exhilarating. The next few laps start to become more difficult as the red jackets become more aggressive. At one point, Cain just picks Abel off the ground so he can go faster than those chasing him. There’s only three players left now, and Cain has a huge target on his back. The other player is a girl a few years younger than them. Long and lean, she moves like a seasoned figure skater. The whistle blows and they cautiously move across the safe zone line. A large group of red jackets go after the girl, allowing Cain and Abel to move relatively unchallenged to the other side of the rink. They’re almost across when everyone who was chasing the girl, jumps in front of Cain and Abel. They form a menacing red wall. Cain grits his teeth and adjusts his grip on Abel’s hips.

“Sorry, babe.” He kisses Abel’s cheek and throws him towards the wall. Abel shouts and crashes into them, most of them scrambling so that he doesn’t fall on them.

“Cain! You bastard!”

In the distraction, Cain swiftly changes his course and is able to skate by them. He laughs manically.

“I’ll make it up to you, sweetheart.” And he soars into the safe zone. Abel makes his way off the rink to join Keeler and Enke.

“You’ve got a real gentleman there, Abel.” Enke comments. Abel just laughs it off.

“It’s fine. I would have been out ages ago if he hadn’t helped me.” He watches the players and red jackets reset before the next whistle blows.

“Go Cain!” He yells out, and Cain winks at him. The whistle shrieks through the cold air. The girl is first off of her mark, but none of the red jackets move towards her. They don’t even look at her. All of them are zoned in on Cain, waiting for him to make his move.

“What is this?!” Cain yells. The crowd standing around the rink laughs. Cain had obviously attracted the attention of not just the red jackets, and it is understandable why. He is tall, exotic looking and full of brash charisma.  Cain takes off his coat, feeling thoroughly warmed up, and tosses it to the side of the rink. His muscular, dark arms stand out against the white backdrop. He skates lazily back and forth along the safe zone line, taunting the red jackets.

“You ready?” He smirks.

 

Cain bursts off the ice with a level of voracity Abel has never seen. He uses the teeth on the front of his skate to dig into the ice and actually runs for a couple of paces. This puts him ahead of the several red jackets behind him. Another comes for Cain’s front. Cain sneers, performing a perfect hockey stop and sending a spray of ice into the red jacket’s eyes. The crowd laughs and cheers at the spectacle. Cain maneuvers around the red jacket while he’s scooping the slush off of his face. His powerful legs pump him across the ice, faster than any of the red jackets can hope to go. He makes it to the safe zone again. This time when the whistle blows, almost all of the red jackets hang out at the safe zone at the other end of the rink. All of them hoping to tag Cain as he crosses. Several come forward though, possibly aiming to take the other remaining player out. The girl pushes off of the safe zone and Cain stays very close behind her. She sends him an annoyed look, knowing that he could easily skate faster than her. He smiles his charming smile, then turns to see several red jackets coming on their left. Cain moves to the girl’s right and skates just in front of her. He doesn’t touch her, doesn’t even kick out his skate to catch hers. He just moves a little too slowly directly in her line of motion. She panics, thinking she’s going to run into him, and loses her balance. Her ass is on the ice and Cain pushes off at his usual speed. A red jacket comes along and taps her on the shoulder.

“Asshole,” The girl mutters, but the crowd is laughing and cheering as Cain is the final one left. They’d usually end the game here, but they clearly want Cain to cross that safe zone line. He has to laugh when he sees their determined faces. They all look pretty pissed. Cain’s face twists into a snarl. He charges at the line, and several of the red jackets come forward for him. Two of them skating close together. One on his left and the other on his right. Cain rolls his eyes at how easy this is. They stretch out their arms to grab him, but at the last second, Cain drops to his knees and practically limbos underneath their grasp. Abel’s laugh rings loudest from the crowd. Cain gets back onto his feet with ease and continues to power on. Another red jacket comes for his front, but he swiftly changes direction. The red jacket tries to follow, but ends up toppling in front of Cain’s skates. Cain manages to jump over him and lands on one skate. He rotates on its axel, skating backwards and showboating for the crowd. He can see the venomous look on the red jacket’s face as he picks himself off the ice. Only one more guards the safe zone now. He’s gliding lazily along the safe line trying to predict which way Cain will go. Cain performs another hockey stop just out of this guys reach. The guy stares up at Cain in confusion. Cain feints to the right and the red jacket springs off his mark.

 

But Cain goes left. He digs the toes into the ice and practically skips across the safe zone line. The crowd applauds, with Abel and Keeler’s shouts leading most of them. Even Enke has to give a resigned clap. A couple of the red jackets congratulate Cain, with one clapping him on the shoulder.

“Man, that was crazy” He laughs. “I’ve never seen anyone move like that. You new here?” Cain sends him a threatening glare and the stranger quickly removes his hand from his shoulder like he’s been burnt.

“Just passing through” Is all Cain says before he skates off to meet Abel where he’s re-entered the rink. Abel’s beaming and grabs Cain’s shoulders, letting the taller man spin them both around.

“I’ll admit,” He shrugs. “I’m pretty impressed.”

“Really?” Cain purrs and winds his arms around Abel’s neck. Abel nods.

“But if you ever…” His gaze turns from affectionate to blazing. “Ever… throw me away again, I will not let you have sex with me for a month.”

Cain throws his head back and barks out a laugh.

“I don’t think _you_ could last that long”

“Oh I could.” Abel states. “Just to spite you.”

 

When their joints ache and the palms of Abel’s hands are scraped from several falls, and his and Cain’s knees are soaked through, they decide to stop for the day. The sun is starting to set already, and their stomachs begin to growl.

“What’s a good place to eat around here, Abel?” Keeler asks, slipping off his abused skates. Enke sits next to him nursing a hot chocolate. Abel flexes his toes in his soggy socks, racking his brain for all the places he knows. They’ve been eating Federated Alliance food for six months, so he has no idea what his comrades actually _like_ to eat. You can’t afford to be picky in space. You eat whatever is placed in front of you.

 “Do you want something saaaaafe?” He offers, thinking of the various sandwich or chip shops. “Or something different?”

“Different!” Keeler eagerly answers. “And nothing in liquid form! I swear to god…!” Enke pats his navigator on the shoulder, feeling a rant start to come on.

“I’m sorry” Keeler, needing something to do with his hands, takes out his braid and runs his fingers through it. “I just _really need_ something solid and flavourful right now.”

“Fuck yes,” Cain agrees. Abel nods.

“I think I can manage something.”

 

Abel leads them onto the next train that will take them to the restaurant he’s thinking of. The train is crowded as it nears the end of the working day and the monitors around the carriage blare their advertisements and news segments brightly. Abel pays attention to the advertisements showing a new motorcycle model, but then tunes the rest out. The city whips by them and with the sky turning dark and the lights streaking past, it almost feels like he’s back in space. Abel’s eyelids become heavy and he leans against Cain’s side for support.

“Oi,” Cain wiggles his shoulder. Abel whines.

“C’mon, just a little bit.”

“Tch,” Cain indulges himself and wraps an arm around Abel’s waist, pulling him closer. An old Earthian woman looks on disapprovingly, and Cain is sure to narrow his eyes threateningly at her. She moves to another seat.

 

Abel is on the cusp of sleep when Cain suddenly stiffens against him.

“What is…” He drowsily begins to lift his head.

“Abel!” Keeler’s slapping his thigh and pointing up at one of the monitors. It’s running a news story about an approaching election. It takes several moments for the image to come into focus, but when it does, Abel’s blood turns icy. There… on the monitor… in his crispest suit and speaking eloquently into a microphone… is his father. But that’s not what’s making Keeler slap his leg repeatedly. Behind his father, standing in forced support are his mother and his younger self. This is footage from two years ago, after his father had won the election for his jurisdiction, and before Abel had been sent to the space station. The camera continuously cuts to his youthful face. His bright eyes and his mouth held in a respectful smile. His hair is slightly longer, but devoid of his rebellious streak of fluorescent yellow.

“Is that…?” Keeler asks in awe.

“Yeah.” Abel answers. He slumps forward out of Cain’s hold. His dad wasn’t actually there, but seeing his stern face makes Abel afraid to sit too close to another man.

“That’s my dad.” Abel admits. Alliance soldier’s past lives were always supposed to stay fairly quiet. That’s why they had tasks names after all. Your life begins and ends with the Alliance. Who you were before doesn’t matter. So it feels like something hugely intimate to Abel has been dragged out into the open. His name isn’t blared across the screen, but his father’s is. His mother’s is. His family name hangs on a huge banner behind them. His family had always been very public, having been raised and groomed in front of multiple cameras and intrusive reporters. A quick search on Keeler’s tablet would be all you need to find out Abel’s name, birthday, the schools he attended, his subject scores, even any romantic interests that his father pushed on him in his later years. It was all readily available at their fingertips. Seeing himself, who he was, brings memories of _Ethan_ flooding back. He feels dizzy.

“I’ve gotta…” He stands abruptly. “Sorry… I just…” He wants to run. He wants to pull his clothes off and sit in his navigator uniform. He wants to sit in the Reliant’s cockpit with the smell of Cain and exhaust all around him, because London is suffocating him and shoving his old life in his face like a bad report card. But there’s nowhere to run. He’s stuck on a train. He could move to another carriage, but he’s everyone’s guide and he can’t leave them to find their own way around. He’s wracking his brain for a solution when a warm hand clasps his wrist. Cain pulls him back down into his seat.

“Calm the hell down.” He almost sounds bored. It’s strange that Abel should find that reassuring. Enke leans forward in his seat. He fixes Abel with his most sincere look.

“What happens on shore leave…” He exchanges a quick look with Cain. “Stays on shore leave.”

Abel nods. He swallows through his dry mouth and focuses on the warm hand around his wrist. He’s still with Cain. He’s still a navigator and no one is going to come around the corner and yell at him to sit up straight or practice his violin. Keeler wraps him in a quick embrace, supportive and caring. Cain lets him.

 

They don’t speak of the incident again. Abel leads them off of the train and through a busy street lined with different restaurants. The demographic on this street looks a bit different to the crowds they had seen in the boutiques, cafes and sweet shops of the inner city. Cain blends in a bit more with this crowd. They’re loud and exuberant, and not all speaking the same language. Mysterious smelling smoke fills the air, as well as music from strange twangy instruments.

“Here,” Abel grabs Cain’s hand and leads him into a restaurant smelling of cardamom and turmeric. The restaurant is dark, but Abel expertly leads them to a table covered in embroidered cloths and coloured lanterns. He takes responsibility for ordering drinks and food for everyone, hoping he doesn’t mess up too badly.

 

“Oh man,” Keeler pants and wipes tears away from his eyes. “I’m having a hard time with this.” He laughs.

“I got you mild, right?” Abel fusses.

“Oh yeah! It’s great! I think I’m just not used to it.”

Abel had to admit that after so long of eating bland Alliance food, even he was struggling with the aromatic, spicy food before him. He takes another swig of his lassi to calm down his mouth.

“Shit,” Cain pants. He’s starting to get a sheen of sweat on his forehead.

“Having a hard time there?” Enke heckles behind his plate filled with the spiciest food available. For the first time on this trip, he is in his element. The heady perfumes of the restaurant and the heat in his mouth and belly are welcome reminders of home. While Cain may be able to endure freezing mornings and run across icy streets, Enke could spend hours under the blaring sun and chase shifting sand dunes. Cain shakes his head, but has to gulp down more of his beer before he can speak again.

“I’m fine.” He breathes. Enke wrinkles his nose at him in derision. He then turns an accusatory look towards Abel, who is shoving naan bread into his burning mouth, and his own navigator who is now rubbing an ice cube along his forehead and neck.

“You are all weak.” He states.

 

Laughing and full of hot food, their taste buds still dancing, they make their way back onto the train to head back to their hotel. The train ride is unusually quiet, with everyone trying to ignore the fact that they will be sent back into space the next morning. Back into an environment where there safety was never guaranteed and the sterile environment could suck the life out of you if the vacuum of space didn’t. Cain pulls out the chocolates still tucked in his coat that Abel had bought him earlier in the day. He pops a few into his mouth, relishing the bittersweet taste. The heat of the chilli flakes feels almost cooling after his latest meal. He offers Abel one, who takes a piece with a smile and delicate fingers.

 

They get off at their stop and are forced to walk through the frigid night for a couple of blocks to their hotel. Abel flicks up the collar of his jacket against the cold. Cain watches his small navigator, finding the pink of his nose far too endearing. He wraps an arm over his shoulders and pulls him closer. Abel smiles into his side. Keeler wants to whistle at the rare display of affection, but knows better than to spook Cain. Shy fingers graze against his own and Keeler looks over to see Enke flushed and embarrassed. Keeler closes the gap between their hands and laughs into his scarf.

 

“How’s this shore leave been for you?” Abel asks quietly, trying to match Cain’s strides. Cain just hums.

“I’ve been more sober than I would’ve liked.”

Abel snorts against him.

“Is that what you usually do? Just get drunk?”

“And laid, yeah.” Cain smirks. “But I’ve been getting that a lot on the ship lately anyway.” He chuckles against the top of Abel’s head. His soft hair tickles his nose. Abel groans and tries to pull away.

“Hey, you’ve gotta take advantage of your resources.” Cain shrugs. Abel lets out a short laugh.

“Is that what I am? A resource?” He asks sarcastically. He doesn’t have grand dreams of romantic confessions with Cain, or walks on beaches or anything like that. He knows their relationship is… tumultuous and fragile, but nevertheless, he feels a strange loyalty and fondness for Cain. Initial fear and apprehension had turned into mild annoyances and affection long ago. And he suspects Cain might not hate him either. Cain tightens his grip on Abel’s shoulders and rocks him back and forth.

“If you’re asking…”

“Ethan!”

 

A shrill voice rings through the night. Cain stops talking, but doesn’t stop walking. Of course not. Why would he? _Ethan_ means nothing to him. Abel keeps pace, regardless of the lead in his feet.

“Ethan!” The voice rings out again. Abel doesn’t stop. It’s a common enough name. The person has to be yelling at someone else. _Anyone_ else. His steps pick up speed.

“Ethaaaaaan!” The voice laughs now, running across the street and grabbing Abel by the wrist. Cain turns on the young man with a snarl.

“Chris,” Abel breathes. Of all the people to run into. Cain appraises the sandy-haired boy. Light eyed like many of the Earth boys, and tall with narrow shoulders.

“Oh man, what are you doing here?” This Chris exclaims excitedly. “Your dad didn’t tell me you were in town!” He laughs.

“I’m just passing through.” Abel replies with a hollow voice. Cain tries to pull him as close to his strong body as he can. He suspiciously eyes the other boy, not wanting him to touch his navigator.

“Do your parents know you’re here? I’m actually on my way to have dinner with them. You should come! I’m sure they’d love the surprise.”

“No!” Abel answers, a bit too firmly. “I uh… we’ve already eaten.” That’s when Chris finally takes his eyes off of Abel and looks around at the odd company around him. Keeler nervously waves, whilst Enke looks down at the strange boy. When Chris’ eyes fall on Cain, he visibly steps back and swallows. Cain feels a growl in the back of his throat.

“F…friends from grad school?” The boy subtly steps to Abel’s other side.

“What?” Abel’s eyes narrow.

“Yeah… Oh man!” Chris’ enthusiasm is back as he remembers something. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to you, but did you know there’s this crazy rumour going around that you joined the Alliance?”

Abel’s glare is fiery. Cain rubs a thumb along his shoulder. Enke steps forward flanking Abel’s other side, essentially creating a navigator sandwich between himself and Cain.

“I _did_ join the Alliance.” Abel bites through his teeth. “I’m a navigator.” Chris’ jaw drops. He blinks in rapid succession.

“B…but your dad…”

“Lied?” Abel laughs humourlessly. A surge of rebellion ripples through his veins. The taste of it is far too familiar in his mouth. He loops an arm around Cain’s waist and sinks further against him. He must be the picture of everything his father fears.

“This is my fighter, Cain.” He cocks his head up at the man he’s draped himself around. Chris reads the grimace on Cain’s face and knows better than to hold his hand out for him to shake it.

“And this is my Lead navigator, Keeler, and his partner, Enke.” Enke nods curtly at the sound of his name. Keeler shyly mouths “Hi” at the stranger.

“Oh…” Chris shuffles nervously. “Nice to uh…” His pale eyes roam over his childhood friend, now in the arms of some colonist and with a hardened look in his eyes. A new scar sits on his plump lips that used to recite poetry and win debate tournaments. Chris swallows at the thought of having to face Ethan’s dad later in the evening.

“I’m running late.” He blurts out. “Sorry, my parents will kill me if I hold them up.” He forces a laugh. “It was really great seeing you, Ethan.”

Abel just hums. He can’t bring himself to say “You too”. He tightens his grip on Cain and moves past before Chris can say anything else that will tear his world apart. So his dad had been telling people he was in graduate school, huh? In hindsight, it isn’t really surprising, but it still stings like a slap. His father is ashamed of him. Abel’s always suspected, but now he has cold confirmation. He shakes his head with a scoff.

 

They enter the lobby of the hotel and their shoes clack on the marble floors. They pile out of the elevator silently and approach their rooms. Enke and Keeler are still hand in hand, and both of them make their way towards Keeler’s room. Cain arches an eyebrow.

“You’re not even going to pretend?” He chuckles. Keeler smiles deviously at his partner, who just shrugs.

“Nah.” Enke’s features soften and he’s pulled into Keeler’s room.

 

Abel’s shaking fingers finally manage to unlock his hotel room. He walks into it, with Cain trailing behind. He shucks off his coat, boots, shirt, pants and socks, suddenly feeling too hot and stifled. Cain takes off his clothes as well, but not in the desperate, clawing way that Abel does. Abel flops onto the freshly made king sized bed face first. He buries his face in the pillow, willing away all memories and traces of his previous life off of his skin.

“Soooooo,” Cain approaches the bed. “Ethan?”

“Don’t.” Abel snaps. “Please don’t call me that.” His voice whispers and shakes. His body is turned away from Cain. Cain takes a step back. Heat and frustration rises in his gut.

“What? Am I not _good_ enough to call you that?!” He growls. “Only your rich friends from Earth deserve to call you that?”

“No!” And Abel’s rolling over with desperate watery eyes. He grasps at Cain’s forearm and it knocks the breath right out of the fighter.

“That’s not… I don’t think you’re…” Abel’s voice is hushed. He stares down at the bed sheets.

“ _Ethan_ is trapped, and scared and weak.” Abel wills the tears back. “I hated being Ethan. But Abel…” Cain allows himself to sink onto the bed next to his shaking navigator. It’s strange and unsettling to see Abel cry. Cain hates the way it makes his chest feel tight.

“Being Abel is so much better.” Abel whispers. His nervous gaze meets Cain’s, before staring back down at his fists balled in the sheets.

“It’s stupid.” Abel laughs. He wipes the tears from his face, brushing them away like they never existed. Cain reaches out and tightly holds Abel’s wrists. He pulls the smaller man forward into a bruising kiss. Abel grips onto his shoulders until he leaves marks from his untrimmed nails.

“Abel,” Cain breathes into his mouth. Abel gasps and swallows his name.

“It sounds so good when you say it.” He pants.

“Abel, Abel, Abel,” Cain repeats it over and over, like he’s christening him. Baptizing him in aggressive kisses and branding his name onto his skin.

“Cain,” Abel gasps. Cain trails his tongue up Abel’s jugular before placing a final searing kiss against his lips.

“I like _Cain_ better too.” He pants against Abel’s skin before breaking away. He places rough hands on either side of Abel’s face.

“You’re my Abel. Understand?”

Abel nods.  Cain’s scowl softens and his gaze falls. He lets out a curt laugh.

“And you’re definitely not weak.” He mumbles, almost like he’s saying it just to himself. Thinking back to when they were first assigned to each other, anyone else would have run screaming if they had been in Abel’s shoes. But Abel, this small boy who Cain could easily break in half, had pushed against him and wound him around his finger so effortlessly. Abel leans forward and places light kisses against Cain’s jawline.

“Thank you.”

“Tch,” Cain’s scowl is back. “Now have you finished crying?” His words are harsh, but the way he says them lacks bite. Abel sighs against his shoulder.

“You were almost human for a second there.”

“Never.” Cain smirks and mouths at Abel’s ear, sliding his rough hands down Abel’s sides until they settle to play idly with the waistband of his boxers. His fingers tease at the soft flesh there. Abel drops his head back and knots his fingers in Cain’s long hair, pushing his head down to nips and bite down the smooth column of his neck and between his pectoral muscles. Abel’s flesh jumps and rises in goosebumps underneath Cain’s tongue.

 

…

 

They lie together, naked and sweaty, with Abel’s head resting on Cain’s rapidly rising and falling chest. Cain stares up at the ceiling and runs his fingers soothingly through Abel’s mop of blonde hair.

“Hey,” Abel looks up from underneath his dark lashes. Cain meets his gaze, his pupils still slightly dilated.

“So you gonna tell me your name now?” Abel asks cynically. He already knows the answer.

“Nah,” Cain sighs. He closes his eyes and places his arms behind his head. He feels overwhelmingly relaxed and satisfied. Abel laughs against his chest.

“Figures.”

Cain grins wider. He wanders his foot over so that it rubs against Abel’s calf.

“I can tell you one thing though,” He lazily opens an eye to peek at Abel. “It’s way fucking better than _Ethan”_ He says the name like it tastes sour in his mouth. Abel lightly punches him in the arm.

“It’s a perfectly normal name.” He drones.

“It’s fucking terrible.” Cain laughs. His eyes are closed again. Abel chuckles underneath his breath and settles in against Cain again. He drapes an arm across his stomach and listens to the sound of his pulse. Cain reaches a hand down to tangle itself in Abel’s hair once more.

“Abel’s much better.”

 

There’s a loud knock on their door early the next morning. Enke calls out and tells them that they have 30 minutes to be downstairs and at the train station. Cain and Abel rise, shower and dress in a dreary mental fog. Their movements are lethargic, heavy with exhaustion and the engrained dread of knowing that they’ll be returning to the Slepinir sooner than either of them wants. Back to flavourless, mostly liquid food and air that tastes too clean. Back to Cain returning late at night with scarred and bruised knuckles and a snarl permanently etched on his handsome features. Back to rushed, desperate sex in broom closets and cockpits, instead of the lazy, tender sessions that seem to stretch into breathless hours and leave Abel’s lungs burning. Abel finishes tying his boots and turns to find Cain shoving some of the left over bottles from the mini-bar into his pack.

“I don’t wanna hear it.” Cain growls as he’s caught. But Abel doesn’t chastise him. He goes over to the fridge and pulls out a couple of bottles with labels written in metallic, beautiful cursive font. He hands them to Cain.

“Some for me too.” His voice is soft and distant. Cain slowly looks up into Abel’s face with surprise. He wears a small, defeated smile. Cain nods, takes the bottles from Abel’s hand, but leaves his hand on top of Abel’s hand longer than is necessary. He squeezes it in solidarity.

“You ready?” He stands. Abel nods.

 

The sun is just starting to creak over the horizon when they reach the Alliance port. The slush on the runway has refrozen over the night, making the walk over to the shuttle even more hazardous. Abel grips onto Cain for support. He walks with a steady assurance. Their shuttle is already prepped and waiting for them with engines whirring. Abel tosses his pack into the storage compartment, then makes to climb the steel stairs.

“Uh, Abel…” Keeler grabs him with a concerned smile. He starts to tighten Abel’s scarf and zip up his jacket to the top, hiding the marks on his neck that he hadn’t been bothered to cover in the dreary hours of the morning. His and Cain’s relationship had to be buried again. Resigned to just whispers in the hallways and mess hall.

“You can’t let Cook see that.” Keeler pats Abel’s scarf. “Wouldn’t want you two getting split up now.” He laughs underneath his words, but it doesn’t reach Abel. He nods and continues climbing the stairs to the shuttle. Cain looks down at his own marked chest.

“I’d zip that jacket if I were you.” Enke offers from next to him. With a resigned sigh, Cain does. He starts to approach the shuttle.

“Cain,” Enke calls out again. He’s dropped his voice so that it’s barely audible over the wind and groaning engines. His gaze is threatening and calculating.

“Your assignment from Bering…”

Cain glares back at him. He wasn’t even back on the ship and this shit was already being shoved at him.

“Is it bad?” Enke asks. Concern stains his words. Cain sighs and runs a hand through his long hair.

“I only know what Bering has needed to tell me.” Cain avoids Enke’s stare. His eyes wander over to wear he can see Abel in the shuttle, politely smiling at Keeler who fusses over him as he does his seatbelt up. A pang of guilt rises in Cain’s throat like acid. Enke must be able to read the slight wince on Cain’s face. He steps forward menacingly.

“If you hurt that boy…” He growls.

“You’ll what?” Cain hisses at him. Enke is surprised at the venom in it and steps back.

“You can’t do anything” Cain seethes. It’s supposed to sound like a threat or taunt, lauding the fact that Enke is powerless over Cain, but it instead shakes and comes out like a sob. Enke’s eyes rapidly move over Cain’s unreadable expression.

“Just fuck off,” Cain pushes past him. He climbs the shuttle stairs with heavy, deliberate steps.

 

Taking off is always the worst part. Abel will never get used to the g’s as they’re launched into space, forcing his back to push painfully against his seat. His hands fist at his pants until his knuckles turn white. Tears appear at the corner of his eyes and are swept back into his hairline. Next to him, he can hear Cain breathing heavily, trying to force his heart rate back down. Enke and Keeler have closed their eyes. They’ve done this too many times now.

 

When the shuttle breaks atmosphere, Cain manages to peel himself away from the back of his seat. But Abel is still trembling, eyes shut tight and fingernails pressing so hard into his palms that they leave marks. Cain nudges him with his foot.

“Calm the fuck down.” But when Abel finds it hard to respond, Cain moves a hand over to cover one of his. He unravels Abel’s tightly wound fist and laces their fingers together. Abel starts to come back down and he squeezes Cain’s hand back. He leans forward and breathes.

“Sorry.”

“Some navigator you are,” Cain snorts, but he leaves his hand in Abel’s, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb. Abel bumps him with his knee. The sky dissolves outside into the familiar black sea of stars. Reality settles back into Abel’s gut and he leans against the cool window. His eye lids feel heavy. His vision blurs all of the stars together and his warm breath fogs the window. He can still feel Cain’s hand in his, tying him to the shuttle like an anchor. Abel picks himself up to lean against his partner’s shoulder.

“You ready?” He asks. They both keep their stares focused directly in front of them.

“Never.”

 


End file.
